


Collared

by snarled_musings



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Light BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, dom!finch, sub!reese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarled_musings/pseuds/snarled_musings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finch reminds Reese of a conversation they had over the phone</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collared

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of a sequel to Order up, but it can absolutely be read as a stand-alone. Mostly it's just shameless smut, because I had to go there.

John was whistling as he sauntered into the library. He was in an unusually good mood, probably because he hadn't been shot at in weeks. Nor had Finch been kidnapped, which tended to make him cranky. This number had just needed some... persuasion. Okay, he'd beaten him up and threatened him, but it was quite persuasive in John's book. Finch looked up from his screen.

 

”Someone's feeling chipper today. I trusted everything went well?”

 

”Very. Are there any donuts left, or have you and Bear eaten them all?” Finch gave a small smile and fixed his glasses.

 

”We thought of you and saved you some. I even stopped Bear from licking them.” John grinned and headed over to the table. The doughnut box was there, but there was a second, smaller box next to it. He took his jacket off (it was harder to be threatening when you were literally sugar-coated) and eyed it speculatively. It looked like a jeweler’s box, but maybe slightly bigger than normal.

 

”Finch? What's in the box?”

 

”Donuts, Mr. Reese.” John could practically _hear_ him rolling his eyes in exasperation. He sounded equally exasperated as he continued:

 

”I know that. But I don't know what's in the _other_ box.” He snagged a doughnut and took a big bite, making a small sound of pleasure. Finch's head lifted, which was the equivalent of the head snapping up on someone who hadn't had their vertebrae surgically grafted. John grinned.

 

”No need to look that smug. Just look in the box.” John shrugged and reached for it. Finch was almost too non-committal, too neutral. He knew it wasn't anything dangerous, Finch would never harm him, but something was definitely up. He opened the box. A black leather collar with an engraved plate rested on satin folds. It looked smooth and supple, and without doubt expensive. He gave a small sigh.

 

”Oh really? Don't you think you spoil Bear enough?” Finch gave a minute smile. John gave a swallow. He knew that smile; he'd been recipient of it multiple times. Either Finch had hatched a masterly plot and someone was going down in flames, or John would be in for an interesting ride.

 

”Do you remember a certain phone conversation we had a while ago? I was talking to you while you were nursing a knife wound and awaiting detective Carter?” John felt heat steal up his face. He remembered the conversation very well. In fact he'd used that conversation many of the nights he didn't spend with Finch. Replayed it in his head as he touched himself. ”The collar is not for Bear.”

 

”Are you serious? Do you really want to put me in a collar?!” His voice rose slightly in volume. He glanced at his reflection in one of the screens and tried to imagine a black leather strip showing against the collar of his white shirt. His throat went dry; it was disturbingly easy to imagine. He really wasn't big on following orders, but Finch had a way with words that always made him follow his requests. Maybe that was it, the way he expressed himself. It was what made him listen to Finch, obey him in a way he'd never obeyed any handler before. It certainly was what had made him get himself off at a stranger's place, listening to Finch's voice while waiting for Carter. The memory made him semi-erect while he fought an impulse to squirm. Uncomfortably he reflected on the hold he let Finch have over him. The older man could probably have him sit and beg if he phrased it right. Which brought his eyes back to the collar.

 

”Don't you like it? I figured anything more elaborate would make you uncomfortable. I know you're a very practical man, Mr. Reese.”

 

”It's a collar, Harold.” John's voice was flat. Something in his gut tightened as he looked at the leather band. He refused to admit the involuntary arousal he felt in his stomach at the thought of putting that on. Most of it was that he knew what it would do for Finch, part of it was something else entirely. Something he didn't want to examine too closely. He wasn't sure he'd like what would emerge if he turned that particular rock over. ”I don't do collars.”

 

Finch raised an eyebrow pointedly. ”And yet you always wear dress shirts,” he quipped with a prim smile. John gave a bark of laughter before he could stop himself and Finch's smile widened, grew more genuine. ”I would never force you, John.”

 

John smirked. ”As if you ever could.” He regretted the words the instant they were out of his mouth. He knew so much better than to underestimate Finch. Or to antagonize him.

 

”But you said nothing of coercion, trickery, bribery, persuasion or any of the countless other techniques I'm willing to employ. And I'm willing to stoop to all of them, because I know that you'd enjoy wearing that collar. I heard you moan when I said I wanted you dressed in only that, kneeling by my feet.”

 

John bit his lip, but the small sound still escaped him. Finch looked at him, a teasing glint in his eyes. ”Damn.” John's voice was a whisper, and a hot blush stole over his face. ”That's just not fair, and you know it.”

 

”I know _you_ , John. Much better than you want to admit. I feel a bit of... exploration might be in order. Let me put it this way: this is one of my fantasies. If we explore this fantasy together, the next time you'll share one of yours and we'll act that out.” That caught John's attention.

 

”Anything I want?” He sounded pathetically hopeful. There was almost no end to the possibilities, and there was so much he wanted to do, to try. To give. The thought hit home and he shut his eyes. That was really all he wanted, to give Finch pleasure. To give him everything. ”It doesn't matter.”

 

He felt a warm hand cup his face and he allowed himself to lean into the touch. ”Of course it matters. You're a very ingenious man, John. I'm sure you have all sorts of interesting ideas rattling around in that brain of yours. I'm curious to find out your dreams and fantasies. We never talk about that.”

 

”There's no need, that's why. It's not like you can't keep me satisfied on a regular basis.” He kept his eyes closed, focusing on the gentle touch of Finch's thumb against his cheek bone. Somehow it scared him, that he really wanted to give the older man _everything_ , no holds barred.

 

”It's not about that; we perform more than adequately in the bedroom. We both know that. This is just something different, and I honestly believe this could be enticing to you as well. Think of it as stress relief.” John's brows furrowed.

 

”You lost me, Finch.” Finch's voice grew soft, became an enticing whisper.

 

”All you need to do is follow my orders. You don't need to worry if it's right nor wrong. You won't have to fear any consequences, nor any harm.” The words were gentle, but John still tensed up. He trusted Finch more than anyone in the world, but to give up control? Despite their closeness John still had a lot of issues concerning intimacy and trust. More than once he chose to not follow Finch's orders, or recommendations, on occasion just because he didn't feel like it. And because he still wasn't sure there wasn't an ulterior motive that would cause him harm. Well, he _knew_ Finch wouldn't hurt him, but a part of him was still afraid to really trust that.

 

”I'm not sure I can do that anymore.” John's voice was laced with insecurity. Finch put a hand on his shoulder.

 

”Do you trust me?”

 

John shrugged minutely. ”More than anyone in this world.” Finch's small laugh made the corner of his mouth twitch up; the twitch became a smile as Finch kissed that corner.

 

”That's an honest answer, but it's not a real answer. You know that, John. Will you trust me? Will you do this for me, for us?” He didn't have anything to lose, not really. It was just a fantasy, after all, something Finch dreamed of. It wasn't life or death, it was just sex. He gave a hard swallow and opened his eyes to look at Finch. The tenderness in his eyes was almost overwhelming. Besides, it wasn't like Finch could do anything to him that hadn't been done before. The thought shouldn't be comforting, but somehow it was. He drew a deep breath, then sank gracefully to his knees at Finch's feet. He bowed his head, a gesture of submissive supplication, as he spoke the absolute truth:

 

”I'd do anything for you.” The softly spoken admission was followed by Finch's just as soft intake of breath. He felt Finch's hand land on the top of his head, gently carding through his hair. His eyes closed again of their own volition. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to look at Finch, feeling way too vulnerable.

 

”Look at me.” The quiet command drew him in, and his head lifted automatically. Finch had never sounded like that before, he didn't know the gentle man could sound so assertive. A small smile played over Finch's lips as his hand continued to pet him, stoke him. ”You're stunning, beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. Do you know that, John?” A hot blush stole up John's face. No one had ever spoken to him like that before. Finch gave him plenty of compliments, but not in that tone.

 

”I- I don't know what to say.” His voice was even softer than usual.

 

”You don't have to say anything, except maybe 'Thank you Mr. Finch.' That's enough for me.”

 

”Thank you, Mr. Finch.” He lowered his eyes again, lowered his shoulders. Somehow this wasn't as horrible as he'd imagined.

 

Finch's hand stayed on his head. ”Remove your shirt.” John rolled his shoulders to make the shirt slip down, his fingers already beginning to unbutton it. He'd barely even listened to the words before he reacted. The blush increased in intensity as he slipped off the garment. Finch's hand slipped down to caress his bare shoulder. ”Are you ready?”

 

”Yes, Mr. Finch.” It was disturbing that it didn't feel- well, disturbing, being that formal with Finch. He kept his eyes downcast as he heard Finch move over to the table. Soon enough he was back, stroking John's throat lightly with just the tips of his fingers. Then he gently placed the collar around the strong neck and buckled it. John swallowed, feeling the collar rasp against his Adam’s apple. It wasn't uncomfortable, just different.

 

”Rise and finish undressing.” Once again he was on his feet almost before Finch had finished uttering the command. It wasn't bad at all. In fact it was a small relief, just as Finch had said. And Finch's reaction more than made it worth it. He tamped down a smile as he unbuckled his belt and undid his pants. He stepped out of pants and underwear, slipping off shoes and socks as he slid the cloth off. When he was naked he relaxed his shoulder and rolled his eyes to watch Finch beneath lowered lashes. The older man's mouth was an 'o' of arousal. He licked his lips and met John's eyes.

 

”And I thought you couldn't become more stunning. I was wrong, you're absolutely breath-taking now.” This time John let his smile hint through as he sank back on his knees again.

 

”Is this along the lines you've imagined?” It almost startled him when he looked down on his erection. Somehow he hadn't imagined doing this would be arousing to him. But the evidence spoke for itself. ”What do you want me to do, Mr. Finch?” Finch gave a minute smile as well, his voice carrying just a hint of unsteadiness.

 

”I want you to take me out and suck me. Stay on your knees and use your mouth and tongue.” John didn't hesitate at all, and just to up the ante a bit he used only teeth and lips to undo Finch's pants and pull down his boxers. Finch gave a shaky laugh. ”That's a very useful skill, John.”

 

He gave a small smirk. ”It is, isn't it? I'm a bit rusty, but practice makes perfect, Mr. Finch.” With that he swallowed Finch down. The sound the older man made had his own cock jerking in sympathy and he really devoted himself to the task at hand. He pulled out every trick he could think of, varying speed and suction, using tongue and just a hint of teeth. Finch showed remarkable restraint, up to the point where John tilted his head just slightly to swallow him down to the hilt. That's when he made a strangled noise and simply grabbed the back of John's head. For a second John almost choked, a small frizzle of panic thrilling through him. He was just about to pull back when he realized that Finch was thrusting into his mouth. In spite of his injuries Finch was fucking his mouth. A thrill of a different kind ran through John and he gave a choked groan. It felt amazing to know he could affect Finch like that; that he could make him lose control like that. He pulled back slightly to catch his breath and gasped out:

 

”Mr. Finch, may I touch myself?” His voice was rough, hoarse, used, eyes tearing up slightly from almost setting off his gag reflex. Finch had to try twice before he could answer; when he did his voice was raspy with desire.

 

”You may, as long as you bring me off with only your mouth. And you're not allowed to come before me.” John groaned again as he got back to the task at hand. Once again he took Finch as deep as he could, swallowing again. The sound that tore from Finch had John's hand going to his own erection in an instant. He was already weeping precome, painfully hard, and the simple touch of his own palm almost had him undone. He couldn't well use his usual trick of biting down on his lip as his mouth was currently full. Instead he grasped his thigh, digging blunt nails into the meat of the muscle. The pain had his leg twitching, but the orgasm receded enough that he wouldn't explode immediately. He was surprised that he reacted so strongly to this game of Finch's, he'd never believed he'd derive any enjoyment from something like this. Yet here he was, almost undone by a single touch because Finch was using him for his own pleasure. He swallowed again, feeling Finch's cock rasp down his throat. Suddenly he was back on the brink and without hesitation he started moving. Bobbing his head he sucked harder, twisting his tongue around the hard flesh in his mouth. He could feel Finch tense and for a fleeting moment he was worried Finch would hurt. Then Finch grabbed his head again, rutting into his mouth with harsh moans between pants for breath. John let his teeth scrape lightly over the head of Finch's cock as he pulled back slightly and the older man's entire body seized up. His face contorted in a grimace bordering on pain as his cock pulsed in John's mouth. The sight had John fisting his own cock in the blink of an eye. While he was still swallowing Finch down he felt heat pooling in his groin, only to explode through him the next instant. He spilled all over his belly and fist, trying to breath and failing miserably. He might have passed out from lack of oxygen if Finch hadn't withdrawn from his mouth. As it was he slumped forward, barely catching himself with his right hand before he did a face-plant on the floor. The left hand was still wrapped around his cock. He stayed like that, bent over, shaking and panting. He felt weak as a kitten, the orgasm robbing him of all his strength. A soft hand rubbed circles over his back and he realized he was soaked with sweat.

 

“Are you all right, John?” Finch's voice was trembling slightly and John raised his head sluggishly. Finch's face was relaxed, sated, but his eyes were concerned. John gave a lazy grin.

 

“I'm brilliant, Mr. Finch.” Immediately the worried look in Finch's eyes softened and his mouth quirked in a smile.

 

“No need for formalities, John. Should I remove the collar?” John's grin widened as another small shudder tore through him, an aftershock of the pleasure he derived earlier. He unsteadily got to his feet and grabbed Finch's hand.

 

“I haven't even seen it on properly. Let's take a shower.” Finch followed him into the bathroom, where John stopped in front of the mirror. He stared at the collar encircling his neck. The black leather gleamed dully against his dusky skin. He leaned closer, studying the engraved plate. “Property of H. Finch? Am I?” Finch pressed a kiss against his shoulder.

 

“You're not a possession, that's just part of my fantasy.”

 

“Which was a lot tamer than I'd believed, coincidentally. I'd expected you to want me to be much more submissive.” Finch laughed.

 

“You sound almost disappointed, John. I thought you didn't want to follow orders.” John shrugged as he turned the shower on, absently touching the sticky mess on his stomach.

 

“You of all people should know there's an exception to every rule, Finch.” Finch's smile took on a wicked edge.

 

“Duly noted. The next time I put that collar on you I'll be a lot more... demanding, assertive... hard... on you.” John swallowed, still a bit shocked that he enjoyed this game. If he was perfectly honest with himself he even looked forward to it. “So, should we remove the collar now?”

 

John reached up and touched it almost absently. “Nah, it can stay for a while. It's kind of grown on me.” He smiled and pulled Finch into the shower with him. He leaned down slightly, leaning his chin on Finch's shoulder as he held the other man against his chest. Fun and games was all good, but _this_? Holding Finch like this? This was _real_.

 

 

 


End file.
